


High Lady

by erudessa



Category: Black Magician Trilogy - Trudi Canavan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudessa/pseuds/erudessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonea was broken. Her nerves will breakdown with the slightest of events. But someone was willing to help her, because he realises his past mistakes and repents. With his help, Sonea might become the first High Lady. some Regin/Sonea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lady Vinara stared at the closed and magically locked door of Sonea’s rooms, fingering a small envelope clutched in her hand. Should she or should she not? It was such a small gesture, she only needed to stoop and slide the envelope under the door, then leave. But all that was revealed, if Sonea read the letter inside, would be great. Vinara stared harder at the door, the turmoil within her mind growing. But what would Sonea do, if she knew the truth? Would she be hurt even more? After all, the truth could be more terrifying than any fiction. But Vinara’s conscience would not let her dismiss the thought of revealing the truth. Vinara sighed.

“Errr...Lady Vinara?” Vinara spun around, instinctively tucking the envelope out of sight. She found herself looking at Regin’s face which contained a mixture of bewilderment, worry and was it excitement?

“Lord Regin,” greeted Vinara, politely. “I see you are a very early riser.”

She gestured lamely at the first rays of sunlight illuminating the Guild outside.

“I...err...wanted to visit Sonea,” muttered Regin.

Vinara raised an eyebrow. The last time she remembered seeing the two together had been in the arena fighting each other.

“I never knew you were such great acquaintances,” she said.

Regin was flustered.

“Actually....”

“No, no, I was just leaving.” Vinara waved nonchalantly and turned back. She gently touched the envelope in her robes. Maybe not now. Later. Later, she thought.

Regin gazed haplessly at Vinara’s retreating back. I hope my plan works, come on, please get better Sonea, don’t you know that the whole of Imardin, even the King, had been worried sick for you? Regin thought. He raised his hand to knock on Sonea’s door. Straightening his new red robes, he knocked on the door.

* * *

 

The spring sunlight filtered into the room through the heavy curtains. The room was filled with a musty smell caused by many days without fresh air. The sheets on the bed were messy and had turned a rather a colour that was closer to yellow than white, books and articles of clothing were strewn haphazardly across the floor.

Sonea stared at herself in the mirror hanging over the washbasin in her bedroom. She looked at herself carefully, the same typical Kyralian look, dark hair and pale skin, did she look just a little paler then usual? True, paler and thinner, it was only a week, wasn’t it? But when someone locks themself in a room, even for a week, and stops eating, they are bound to be thinner. Sonea ran her hand through her unkempt hair. There were dark smudges under her eyes making her seem much older than the young age of twenty four. She couldn’t even meet her own eyes.

Sonea wandered aimlessly into her sitting room. Ever since she was formally pronounced, the Guild’s Black Magician, two years ago, she had her own room in the Magician Quarters. Her residence was large and spacious dominated by a sitting room and surrounded by three bedrooms, one for her, one for Lorkin and the other spare bedroom was where Jonna used to stay when Lorkin was first born. Lorkin tottered into the room. Sonea couldn’t suppress a twinge of annoyance at his appearance.

A week ago, that fateful week ago, Sonea was meant to take her Healing exam that would qualify her as a graduated and trained Healer. She had been filled with a hope, an elation that she would finally be able to help the dwells. But it never had occurred to her that she would ultimately fail.

Of course, Lorkin was to blame. He cried and cried and cried and could not be left alone, Sonea even tried the strongest sleeping potion she could concoct on him, but he just wouldn’t calm down. As if Lorkin was cursed to cry and cry and cry just when Sonea had an exam, she was sure there was nothing wrong with him. Even Lady Vinara couldn’t detect anything wrong, health wise, with Lorkin.

 Sonea cursed her own incompetence in Healing. Back as a novice, Sonea was good at Healing, wasn’t she? What happened, did she just look in the wrong direction? She could just take the exam six month later as Director Jerrik had pointed out, but that would be another six month being held inside Guild grounds and the inability assist the dwells. She sighed and buried her head in her hand. The dwells, Jonna, Ranel, Cery how are you all doing? I’m so sorry I can’t help you. She let out a strangled sob. Guilt rose like bile up her throat. Her head landed wearily into the cradle of her arms.  Exhaustion slowly claimed her. The obliviousness was heaven. That was, until the dreams came.

* * *

 

“Sonea! Sonea! Sonea!”

The street was lined with people on both sides, four lines thick. They were all clothed in thin, threadbare garbs. There was not one glint of metal under the sunlight.

The chanting rose to a zenith as robed figures appeared around a corner. _Magicians!_ Sonea realised. She was floating. It was as if she was a bird. She could see the scene from in the air. She willed herself lower onto the level of the on looking chanters, hoping the catch a glimpse of the approaching magicians. What kind of magician could inspire such a reception from the dwells? she mused.

Leading the procession was a black robed, figure, waving and smiling as she accepted the many roses and flowers thrown in her direction. As the figure turned, Sonea caught a glimpse of the women’s face. It made her stagger. She was looking into the face of herself. Herself, but not herself. This figure with her pale skin and lush brown eyes framed in brown hair was beautiful, like the way Sonea never was. Never in her life has seen herself this carefree.

“High Lady Sonea!” a voice called. The Sonea in the dream turned in the voice’s direction. A rose flew out from the owner of the voice. It was black. A black rose.

* * *

 

Tap! Tap! Tap! Three knocks sounded, jerking Sonea out of her dream. An ethereal feeling of cheerfulness remained inside her mind. She had the vague recollection of the dream being different. There was a feeling associated that stood out from those dreams before. Instead of the torturous depressions, this dream had a feeling, a feeling of hope, the kind which Sonea had not felt even when she was going to take her Healing exam. The was the hope of promise of a time that was going to be better.

Tap! Tap! Tap! Another three knocks sounded. It was enough to bring Sonea back. Suddenly the hope vanished, replaced with the heavy burden of the present. Who was it this time? Another Higher Magician? Dorrien? Rothen?

 

But whoever it was, Sonea wasn’t going to open the door. She could not bear to see them now.  Guilt. Guilt about leaving the Guild. Guilt for her actions. But she kept her head held high. Her back straight. All she wanted to do is to open that door and beg forgiveness to whoever was there. But her pride restrained her. It was better to stay in here and die then to throw herself at someone’s feet begging forgiveness. But as she glanced at Lorkin who was eating his breakfast silently opposite his mother, Sonea felt her resolve dying away.

 

Sonea sat mutely staring at the door. She tried to recollect that sense of dignity and pride. Finally bracing herself she walked slowly towards the door. Her hand paused before it touched the lock. Slowly she let her hand fall back to her side.

 

Tap! Tap! Tap! Regin knocked again. Still no answer. Suddenly, his seemingly ingenious plan didn’t look so ingenious anymore. Doubts began to creep into his mind. He stared regretfully at his empty hands, he was too rash in trying to put his plans into action. Maybe he should have brought something with him. A large box of expensive chocolates, perhaps? Flowers? Any of those items would surely soften the heart of anyone, even your ex-archenemy.

 

Just as Regin was about to leave, slightly relieved, that a small click signaled that the magical lock behind the door had been opened and a small ‘come in’ was heard. Steadying himself, he gently pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

 

Sonea hurriedly blinked away her tears of shame and readied herself to launch into her prepared speech the Higher Magician or Dorrien that was standing in front of her. She turned around to look at the man in red robes standing before her. She took an intake of breath sharply. The man in front of her in red robes was not Balkan like she expected. It was  Regin.

 

Sonea’s shame immediately vanished to be replaced by a dark anger. How dare Regin come to her and gloat at her in her present weak state?! She stood up, her fists clenched tightly. It took all her self control not to send a stun strike at him.

 

“Err, Sonea,” Regin began hesitantly. Sonea used his hesitation as an advantage and yelled:

 

“Get out! Get out! How dare you!”

 

Regin backed away momentarily, staring speechlessly at Sonea’s seething figure and imagined steam sprouting out of her ears. He gained control of himself and launched into an explanation. But all that came out was a pathetic jumble. He groaned as Sonea’s eyes flashed dangerously, where was the old cocky Regin gone now, he thought.

 

Sonea rushed at him and shoved him straight through the door. To her surprise, he left obediently.

 

Sonea was breathing heavily, her chest heaved up and down. But as her anger died away, guilt pricked her conscience. After the Ichani invasion Regin had been nothing but good to her, not only did he leave her alone, he stood up for her, even defending her honour when she was carrying a child out of wedlock. Another realization hit her, what if Regin wasn’t here to gloat at her?  She buried her head in her hands and groaned again. Why did she have such a hot temper? Just look at what she had down in a moment of anger. 


	2. Chapter 2

Rothen scratched his head. His brows creased together into a worried frown. The quiet murmurs of the other Higher Magicians were a dull drone to his ears. He scratched his head some more. Ah, Sonea , you poor child. It seems fate dealt you a harsh blow. Rothen quietly surveyed the others grouped around the comfortable fireplace of Osen’s office. His eyes stopped on the figure of Vinara in her emerald robes talking in hushed voices with Lord Peakins. Why were you so harsh on her, Vinara? Why? You knew Sonea’s skills, why did you put her in such a state?

Rothen sighed. His brow creased further. Vinara was a severe women but she had a good heart, Rothen knew. But he could not stop the clench of his heart from anger every time he thought about Vinara and Sonea’s disastrous exam. He continued to scratch his head. He had the horrible premonition that there was some ulterior motive behind that …event. But what, Rothen could not yet fathom. Vinara was by no means simpleminded. Everything she did was for a purpose.

Almost as if sensing him thoughts, the woman caught his eye and inclined her head slightly casually, as if in a knowing way. She then turned away quickly. Rothen felt the hairs on his neck stand up. The entire encounter was so quick, Rothen wonder whether the incident actually occurred or not. But he was stopped in his musings by the soft click of the door closing. The drone stopped abruptly as everyone turned to regard the latecomer whom everyone was waiting.

Lord Balkan stood just by the door. His large muscular frame filled the entire doorway.

“Excuse my lateness, please, I had business to attend to.”

All head abruptly swiveled back as Balkan strode over to the other magicians, standing in front of the fire. With the flames behind him reflecting off his red robes, he looked truly terrifying. Rothen had to stop himself from shuddering. The robes were like blood. It looked as if Balkan had increased in size and power. Rothen mentally slapped himself. What was wrong with him today?

Ever since the Invasion, Balkan seemed to have filled the shoes of the High Lord though he had never been declared one. He was responsible for new recruits from merchants and dwells and was a major advisor to the king and his counsel. But mostly he overlooked the smooth running of the Guild and presided over the Higher Magician meetings.

“Today, there are a few err..issues to address.” Balkan paused to survey to silent members of the meeting. “Firstly, the position of High Lord has not yet been filled.”

Rothen narrowed his eyes. It was not the first time the subject had been brought up by Balkan. He had been voted down for High Lord by the other Higher Magicians and to many it seems that this issue had been closed, while to others it was filled with much debate.

Rothen tried to gauge the reaction of those around him. No one spoke to agree, not even Garrel. There was only a silence. It was the reaction of people who found the subject no longer worthy of discussion, it was pure nonsense. But no one  spoke to object, except for Vinara.

Vinara stood up beside Balkan and voiced the thoughts in everyone’s heads. “The running of the Guild has not been affected by the lack of a single High Lord with absolute authority. Perhaps it is time for a change. Power to be shared by a group instead of one.”

Balkan opened his mouth to object. But Vinara continued, “Traditionally, the High Lord position is held by the most powerful magician who is also voted by the other Higher Magicians.”

She paused. Rothen could just detect the slightest hint of uncertainty flickered across Vinara’s severe features.

“However….”

“However, Lord Balkan, I detest beating about the bush, so I shall be frank. You are no longer the most powerful magician in the Guild and on several elections been voted down by the Higher Magicians. Therefore you are not qualified in any manner to be High Lord. Therefore, please do not bring up the subject again.” Lord Garrel closed his mouth and folded his hands neatly in his lap. His lips curved slightly into a smirk as he sat back to observe the effects of his words.

There was a sharp intake of breath in the room. Rothen himself took in a sharp breath. He glanced quickly at Vinara. She looked slightly flustered. Then Balkan. The man was terrible, there were hints of red creeping up his pale cheeks and his nostrils flared. Staring at his sleeve, he tried to check himself.

“Lord Garrel, I believe you have misinterpreted my words.” Vinara said stiffly. Vinara shot Garrel who stared at her calmly, an angry glare.

“My dear lady, I have voiced the very thoughts that are running in everyone’s head, including yours.”

There was silence. Then a wave of murmuring throughout the room.

Rothen shifted slightly in his seat.

“I admire the man, Lord Garrel.”

 Rothen swiveled around in his seat at who had murmured in his ear. Lord Peakin stared at him expectantly. Feeling uncomfortable, Rothen shifted in his chair trying to memorize the wrinkles on his hand. Forced to give an answer, he said, “Yes, errr..I believe so.”

“Perhaps you do not agree?”

“Oh..I agree, absolutely. The man certainly has courage though in a slightly different way to the conventional one.”

Peakin nodded.

Rothen loitered outside the door of Osen’s office. He toyed with his sleeve as he waited. Finally he heard the door open. He slid back into the shadows as Balkan stalked past. Shortly after, Vinara appeared.

“Lady Vinara!” Rothen quickly stepped out. Vinara turned. He saw uncertainty flash across her features.

“Yes, Rothen?”she replied curtly.

“During the meeting,” Rothen hesitated. Should he be frank? “During the meeting were you actually suggesting what Garrel had said?”

“That Balkan under all circumstances cannot be High Lord?” Vinara frowned. Rothen nodded.

“Well, I had been thinking along those lines,” admitted Vinara. “But I was afraid. Balkan after all is still more dominating than any of us.”

“Then, do you think we still need a single High Lord?”

Vinara’s gray eyes flashed. “Of course, but only if there is a person who was worthy of the position. Honorable enough. Powerful enough. Capable enough….”

Rothen scratched his head. He scrutinized Vinara carefully. Could she possibly be suggesting someone?

Smiling ruefully, she said, “I believe I have business to attend you. I will see you in the Night Rooms, I presume?”

Rothen nodded absentmindedly. What could be Vinara suggesting? She couldn’t possibly be suggesting what he was thinking. Or could she? Rothen hurried on through the corridors.  He needed to talk to Dorrien. Good thing he’s here, he thought. Nodding his head curtly at someone’s greeting, he hurried on still engrossed with his thoughts. Finally he stood in front of his own door. He knocked.

“Father! What’s wrong?”

Rothen blinked at the alarm in his son’s voice. Did he look terribly urgent?

“Oh, Dorrien. I was just thinking. Nothing’s wrong.”

Dorrien glanced at him strangely, and asked, “What got you so worried? I mean what were you thinking?”

Rothen scratched his head. Suddenly aware of his own feelings, he said, “I think I’m excited not worried, Dorrien.”

Dorrien’s eyebrow rose.

“Honorable enough, powerful enough, capable enough, someone should be High Lord. Vinara’s sudden flash of was it pride? Expectation? Did she have any motives behind failing Sonea? Maybe she wasn’t what I thought. What’s it!”

Rothen snapped his fingers, turning abruptly to face his startled son.

“Vinara wants Sonea to be High Lord!”

“Father! Vinara wants Sonea to be High Lord!” said Dorrien, incredulousness and worry intermingled in his voice.

Rothen paused in his thoughts. Yes, he was sure.

“Yes, I believe so.”

Dprrien’s mouth dropped open. But his eyes glittered.

“That would be something Sonea would like. I mean, being High Lord would help the dwells so much!” Dorrien’s voice raised an octave with barely controlled emotion. But almost as quickly, his face fell. He bit his lips. “But the Guild would never let a black magician as powerful as Sonea have powers of authority.”

Rothen’s mind could not be deterred. _Convince the Higher Magician’s otherwise then._

“Oh, Dorrien. Our goal is quite clear then, isn’t it?”

Rothen grinned. Dorrien managed a smile, his eyes still sparkling.

“I guess so, father. I guess. But how?”

Rothen just continued grinning. _Oh, Sonea, you wouldn’t believe this!_


	3. Chapter 3

She was Sonea, who wasn’t a weakling. She was never one and she wasn’t going to be one. What if she failed her Healing exam? She wasn’t going to lose her sights on her aspirations. She was better than that.

The fresh crisp air filled the corridor. Refreshing, rejuvenating. She bathed in the sunlight flooding from the window. She took a deep breath of the clear sharp air of autumn. It flooded into her lungs. It lifted the dark must that had shrouded her min. was it only one week? Now something stirred within her mind. As she walked through the corridors, her step had a spring to it. A step had a spring to it, a step whose direction was firm and determined.

“Sonea?!” Regin gasped in disbelief as he saw the hem of black robes sliding around the corner. No, he must he dreaming. It was only this morning. But the image was too real. No one else in the Guild wore black robes, unless it’s Akkarin’s ghost. Which, Regin reminded himself was even more unlikely. He hurriedly turned into the very corridor he saw robes.

* * *

 

She didn’t consciously control the direction of her feet, but it knew each twist and turn without any conscience instruction. Her feet carried her on.

The roof was isolated and quite, accessed by only a privileged few. It revealed everything of the Guild grounds and the city of Imardin but effectively concealing the viewer behind battlements and ornamental statues. Here Sonea’s feet carried her now.

As her feet braced the last step, she emerged into the light of the sun, a great contrast from the dark, neverending tunnel which led unto the roof. She took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp cool air once more blowing all around her. The ground stretched below her, as she looked further, the grounds faded into the gleaming inner circle resplendent in its former glory, under this sunlight even the simple houses of the slums shone brilliant.

She tilted her head slightly to see the view on her left. Suddenly, there was a flash of red in the corner of her eye. She was not alone. Sonea whipped around. Her body tensed and her eyes narrowed. It was Regin. 

“You.” She muttered. Regin raised his arms in defeat. This time he was ready.

“Sonea, we may not be friends, but can we at least talk?” he laughed weakly. “Let’s not try to kill each other, okay?”

Sonea’s stomach clenched uncomfortably, she turned away, suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry, Regin,” she said in a small voice.

Regin was taken aback. He has never seen Sonea in such a state before.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, turning back to face him. The apology ran deeper than the incident this morning. She wanted him to know how ungrateful she had been. Regin had kept to his word, helped her with such sincerity. “Yes, let’s talk.”

Regin joined her by the battlement. He paused not sure how to continue. He stood awkwardly. For a while they stood silently, side by side, gazing out at the city. A bird stretched its wings and took flight on a gargoyle beside them. Sonea looked wistfully as it swooped down and disappeared from sight.

“So, how did you get up here?”

Regin answered, “My print is on the lock and I come up here quick a lot you know.”

Sonea arched an eyebrow. With her sardonic expression, it was almost arrogant.

“It was here that I decided to remain in the Guild.”

“And why is that? Outside lays endless possibilities for Regin of Winar.”

Regin felt a flash of anger. Fighting to keep his voice calm, he said coolly, “You not have to remain the way you are for the rest of your life you know.”

Sonea laughed. It carried in the wind, and echoed bitterly around the roof. She turned her eyes on his face. “How?”

Regin quoted her, “There lays endless possibilities for you, Sonea only if you know how to find it, which you do know. Look out to new horizons that stretch far for you….”

He trailed off. He has said enough. It would work, now that Sonea herself had the will. There was a sigh.

“Sonea?”

He doubted that she heard. Quietly, he left her, picking his way carefully across the roof. Regin smiled to himself.

Sonea knew as she looked across the city. New horizons….which you do know. Regin’s voice floated through her mind, bringing clarity and understanding. Ranel, Jonna, just hold on for a little longer, she thought, I’m coming. As she glanced one last time at the city stretching to the horizons, she knew what was laid out for her. Light shone at the end of the tunnel, it was a path glimmering with jewels and roses. But the tunnel has not yet ended. Oh, thank you, Regin, she thought, how will I ever repay you?

The last image Sonea saw as she left the quite solitary of the roof was a path lined with people in the slums and the black rose as it landed in her hand. It burned into her eyelids, everytime she closed her eyes she saw it. It was so real, it was almost like a premonition….

* * *

 

A small envelope was slid under the door as Sonea returned to her rooms. She opened the door and it skidded across the room. Gingerly, Sonea picked it up. It was addressed to her in a writing that definitely wasn’t Director Jerrik’s. In fact, it was very much like her own except each lettering was thin and precise. It read:

Dear Sonea, 

                 I give my sincere apologies to you for my lack of empathy for your misfortune. And I shall try my very best to call forth another Healing exam. But in the meantime would you care to join me for dinner this evening? It will be at six o’clock in my rooms. I would appreciate if you can make it.

Lady Vinara

Sonea read and reread the note. Vinara inviting her to dinner? She was about to scrunch the note into a ball and throw it away, she paused. Vinara was an influential and powerful Higher Magician. If she was to gain her approval, then her chances would be higher. Quickly, she picked up her pen and wrote a short reply.

Dear Lady Vinara,

                      I am pleased to accept your gracious invitation and is very much grateful for your help.

Sonea

She then wrote another note, but this was longer, more like a letter. On the side, she addressed it to Regin. Finally she laid the two notes side by side, staring and contemplating.

Sonea made herself a cup of sumi. The hot water sloshed around in the cup and splashed over the sides as it gushed too fast from the jug. The cup was filled to the brim and it splashed onto the floor as Sonea made her way back to her seat.

All was quiet. Then Lorkin started to cry. It resonated around the room twice as loud. It penetrated into Sonea’s mind. She turned on her son, angry for the distraction. As he stared into his mother’s face, he abruptly stopped, quickly turning away.

Without further thought, Sonea stuffed several articles of clothing into a bag, scooped Lorkin in her arms and strode out.

* * *

 

Bang! Bang! Bang! Dorrien nearly dropped the cup he was about to drink out of. He turned to the door, surmbling across the floor. The knock on the door demanded attention immediately. He was already at the door before he realized. He wondered at his own reaction. He did not even wonder who would call so early and with such urgency. But still he threw open the door and was confronted by an alarming sight.

Sondea stood in front of him. Over her should slung a bag stuffed so that some areas bulged while others places did not. In her arms was Lorkin whose eyes were too large for his face and was staring straight at him with a look of fear and bemusement.

Dorrien stared back. His jaw hit the floor. Words wanted to tumble from his mouth, but nothing came. A million questions ran through his mind. Finally, he managed one word, “Sonea?!”

“Dorrien, I need you to escort me. Now!” sonea’s voice was calm, uncannily so for her image. So different from the urgent banging only moments before. This was a demand not a request.

Dorrien found himself in such a state of shock that he felt ashamed. Collecting himself as best as he could in the circumstances, he asked, “Sonea, what’s going on?”

But his voice did not sound concerned like he wanted, his voice was awed. Shaking his head in disgust, he repeated, “What’s going on?”

That’s better. But Sonea didn’t reply. Instead she started to stride through the corridor, Dorrien was sure she was going out of the Guild. Having no choice, he followed.

Dorrien heaved a sigh. He have started to pant. Sonea’s unwavering stride required him to run just to keep up. The continued like this through the Guild earning many stares. Dorrien glanced at his companion hoping to glean a clue about what was happening from Sonea’s expression. But there was nothing. Her face was a mask, a fierce mask. Her features was set straight. Her gaze unwavering. Her lips set grim. It was terrifying.

Dorrien expected himself to be happy. After all Sonea was out of that terrible depression. But he wasn’t. He didn’t want Sonea as a mask like figure of authority. Silently, he slapped himself. What a hypocrite.

Engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn’t even notice that the Guild was already far behind them and the newly restored Inner Circle has already given away into the outer merchant district.

“Sonea?!” Exasperation etched into his voice.

“We’re going into the slums,” was the simple answer. Dorrien palled and nervously tugged at his sleeve of his robes. After sonea stopped visiting the ospital, the dwells have been ancreasing antagonistic towards any magician. Old wounds reopened. The hospital likes dwindled and Healers seen travelling through the slums were sometimes attacked.

Sonea continued. Almost too soon, the merchant shops disappeared and as he passed through the city gates, he entered the slums.

Idle dwells at first stared at them from their shacks and houses. Men glared reproachfully. Women stared unseeingly. Some diverted their eyes. Dorrien continued to tug at his sleeve. As they progressed further, people turned away and refused to acknowledge their presence. He gulped. He counted the debris underfoot, stumbling. But Sonea continued, head held high, her stride unrelenting, and her gaze unflinching. This can’t be happening.

Finally, Sonea stopped. Dorrien followed suit. In front of them was a house. Small, but a house with sturdy brick walls and windows gleaming in the sun. Sonea raised her arm to knock on the door. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Sonea?"

"Jonna." Sonea curtly greeted her aunt. Dorrien could see the emotion flicker across Jonna's face: surprise, alarm then concern.

"Come in!" said Jonna, maintaining an affable manner.

Sonea shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary."

Dorrien could detect just the slightest hint of hesitation in her demeanor.

"Would you take care of Lorkin for me?"

Dorrien drew a hurried intake of breath. No! He must have heard wrongly.

"Sonea?" Jonna's alarm was evident in both her face and voice. It quivered slightly. Slowly, she reached to take Sonea's arm.

But Sonea flinched slightly. She handed Lorkin and the pack to Jonna.

"Your help is much appreciated," the words tumbled from her mouth stiffly, nothing sincere but empty courtesies.

Without any ado, Sonea abruptly turned away and began walking.

Dorrien stared at her retreating back, haplessly. He turned back to Jonna, tugging at his sleeve and feeling that he needed to offer some type of explanation.

But Jonna merely said, "Be on your way, my lord."

Dorrien gave her a small smile that was far from reaching his eyes. Then, just as quickly as Sonea, he strode after her retreating back.

Sonea's walk had stopped. Her previously long strides has slackened and slowed. She walked as if lethargy hung through every part of her body. Her feet dragged along the cobblestone. Dorrien felt his heart clench slightly. He quickly caught up with her.

"Sonea?" Sonea turned away from him. She continued walking.

Suddenly, a stone flew past. The slums were no longer safe.


End file.
